


Resolution (The Discord Remix)

by romanticalgirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows Ethan in his blood and heart and soul, like magic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution (The Discord Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the original fic [Dissonance](http://trkkr47.seeking-solace.com/fanfic/dissonance.html) by Trekker. Written as remix pinch hit

There is nothing he can do about the soft movements behind his back. It’s with the bitter air of comedy that Ethan moves from habit, doing everything he can to avoid the words spoken in the cool rationality of the night as well as those whispered in the heat of passion.

He rolls over as the door shuts, letting in a faint gust of air that sends the curtains dancing and lets the moonlight spread across the room. Giles slides out of bed and walks over to the thin fabric and pushes back the shield it offers on the night, staring out at Ethan as he makes his way down the dark streets, painted occasionally with the weak gold of street lights that shine nothing like the fire of magic sparking in their veins.

He feels old as he moves back to the bed, his naked body a map of scars. Ethan’s skin beneath his was like velvet, smooth and taut and stretched tight over muscle and bone, except for across his arm where the flesh had bubbled under acid until the one tie to their past had dissolved in so much burning skin.

And yet Ethan remains on his periphery, showing up and being there when Giles finds he needs him most. When Ripper surges or when Rupert needs some connection. There are times when it is just sex, so easy and familiar even when there is nothing about it that is the same. Other times, times that are harder to remember, fire nearly consumes him, and he knows the only way that he’ll survive is to drown himself with the taste of Ethan on his tongue, in his flesh.

He had asked Ethan to stay, something he never thought he would do. Could do. He had asked it out of loneliness and desperation and other emotions that he refuses to identify. He knows Ethan in his blood and heart and soul, like magic. He stands and dresses, slowly as though he has all the time in the world, even though he knows he has nothing of the sort.

This is the moment, he knows. He dresses quietly, as though someone were still sleeping beneath the tousled sheets, as though what’s left of his life isn’t on some distant street about to vanish in the night. He pulls his jacket on – leather for more than protection against the night air – and makes his way to the rain soaked streets, following the faded footsteps in the damp to the edge of the river and the soft glow of Ethan’s cigarette.

“Hoped I’d find you here,” he lies easily. Hope has nothing to do with it. It’s all instinct and knowledge, sensory awareness.

“Needed a smoke.”

Being a Watcher has taught him every line of defense. Being around teenaged girls turned to stubborn young women has taught him every trick of passivity and aggression. “Ah.” Ethan is desperate to run. Giles won’t let him. He edges closer and slides his arms around Ethan, adding his weight to the tug of war between resistance and need.

They fit like this, together. Giles’s mouth against Ethan’s neck. Ethan’s head turned to the side. The right height, the discrepancy of weight. Muscles conform and mold, body to body. He can feel Ethan’s reluctance. He does not want to give in, though they both know it’s a lost cause. They both fight lost causes, tilting at windmills of their own and others’ making.

He turns his head and presses his mouth just beneath Ethan’s ear, his tongue sliding along the smooth hollow of flesh. He keeps moving – it’s always more difficult to stop a moving target - his lips trail along Ethan’s skin, warm breath and damp kisses to match the heavy air, the threat of another storm. Ethan stands motionless, his breath barely moving his chest until he hisses and spits out a curse and breaks whatever spell has woven over them.

“What is this.”

It’s not a question so much as a demand, though there is no heat behind it. It simply is, just as they are. “What it’s always been. You and I.”

“I’m no housewife, Rupert.”

Giles smiles, the corners curving upward in a hint of knowing. Ripper is still inside him, lurking somewhere. “And I don’t want a wife.”

Ethan scowls and every expression flickers in his eyes. He has great depths, but reading him is like reading an ancient text; the words are there, but only if you know how to decipher them. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

“Yes.” Everything is in that simple word. Forgiveness and need and desire, hurt and pain and relief. History weighs the word down between them, shimmering like the hint of his kisses on Ethan’s neck.

“Then what—“

“Wander.” He moves, needing to close the distance between them before it grows to great. “All you want. All you need. Just promise you’ll come back. To me.” He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t touch him, but they both stare at his hand as if he’d made the gesture. “…now and again.”

Ethan’s voice is soft, like a whisper of smoke of a promise in the night. “I always have.”

He closes the distance between them, nodding. “I know.”

Ethan steps back, as Giles knows he will. This is nothing that Ethan would ever admit that he wants, but knowing it doesn’t make it any less painful. Asking was the hardest thing he’d ever done until this moment as he finds himself watching Ethan watch him before he walks away.

Giles stares after him, sighing softly into the night. Ethan has turned the corner and vanished again into the night. With a sad smile, Giles nods after him, lifting his hand in a wave as he turns.

“Be seeing you.”  



End file.
